


The Sacrifice

by anonymousmadame2911



Series: The Satanic Cult [2]
Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Comedy, F/M, First Time, Horror, Kidnapping, Penetrative Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Virgin Sacrifice, satanic themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-11-02 02:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousmadame2911/pseuds/anonymousmadame2911
Summary: A group of Satanists try to sacrifice you because you're a virgin.





	The Sacrifice

Summer had been slow. You had just graduated from college with a BA in English and were desperately trying to find work. It didn’t help that Trump had destroyed the economy and corporate billionaires had raided the coffers. That left you working three part-time jobs: baby sitting, delivering pizzas, and the front desk at a hair salon. To put it mildly, you were miserable and needed an escape. 

“Come on! Come and visit. You can drive down. Stay with me. We’ll go to the beach everyday. It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah. I’m not so sure. Let me check with my bank account and get back to you.”

You had a little leeway and could pay for some gas and food to get to your friend Becky’s house. Her neighborhood had houses behind gates with security guards. You knew she had a pool in the back, but you didn’t know that she lived in a gated community. Mental note: don’t go outside at night. You were a bit nervous, because rich people were known to be stingy. You pulled up to a 2-story house with Corinthian columns and tall palm trees lining the extensive driveway. You saw three cars, all with tinted windows and all Range Rovers. You parked your dusty 1995 Toyota Corolla off to the side of the house. You texted Becky from the car. No response. You thought through what you would have to do if she didn’t respond. It had been a 6-hour drive and you didn’t feel like driving back home tonight. But, you would if you had to. You got out and knocked on the door. 

“Um. Hi? Is Becky home?”

“She isn’t here right now. She’s out.”

The older woman looked like Becky and she invited you in. You left your bag in the trunk of your car. You sat at the kitchen island talking to her mom. 

“I didn’t know you were supposed to spend the night?”

“Yeah…um…actually Becky asked me to…I’m sorry if there’s been some miscommunication—”

“Let’s wait for Becky to get home and see what she says—”

“Oh my God! You came!”

Speak of the Devil and she will come. You were in total disbelief at the situation. Becky had begged you to come and stay. You texted her when you left your apartment and she responded with an enthusiastic “yes.” Now, she was pretending that you had come to surprise her and all of this was completely…what? Not her idea? A surprise? Out of left field? Who was this girl? You’d been great friend in college, but now it felt like you had no idea who she was. Why was she completely lying? She showed you to the pool house, which had a small kitchenette and a fridge. 

“Yeah. Um. Ok. Just go ahead and get settled and we can go out tonight if you want to.”

Uh. No. The plan had been to basically have a glorified staycation. You didn’t have all that money to drop on her bullshit partying. Not especially with the way she was acting brand new. You waited for her to leave and looked in the fridge. Nothing. Were you going to go to the grocery store or were you going to turn tail and just go back home? Why would you bother even staying when you could just have a staycation back in your own apartment? This whole situation had all sorts of “nope,” “no,” and “hell the fuck no” written all over it. Was it too late to leave? You peaked out of the window to see the sun slowly setting. You grabbed your bag and went into the main house. 

“You know what? I’m sorry for the confusion. There’s clearly been a mistake and I think I have to leave.”

You took your chocolate ass back to your busted down Corolla and got the hell outta Dodge, before a George Zimmerman wannabe tried to take you down. You drove the speed limit until you got onto the freeway and out of that neighborhood. You relaxed into the car seat as you picked up speed on the freeway. The navy sky dotted with stars covered your exit. The quiet of the night left you breathing easy and comfortable. You noticed that your gas was low and decided to pull into the next gas station. At 12:30 am, there was no one at this gas station and spiders crawled in the price display. 

“Let’s do this. Quickly and we get out of here.”

Your skin crawled seeing all the spider webs and the lights turned off inside the store. The perfect setup for a horror movie. You were all the tokens in one: black AND a virgin. Hell no you were not dying tonight. You swiped your credit card and pumped a full tank into your car. You tore the receipt off and looked around. There was no one. It was dead silent. You got in your car and locked the door. 

“Not today, Satan,” you mumbled to yourself. 

You slowly pulled out and looked for signs for the freeway. You didn’t see any, so you retraced your steps. You became frustrated when you saw that the way you had come didn’t lead you back to the freeway. You pulled over into a farmer’s driveway, complete with a grain silo and cows mooing! You took out your phone to use Google Maps. No signal. Could this day get any worse? A knock on your glass made you jump. 

“You need help?”

“What are you doing up this late?”

“What are you doing in my driveway?”

Fair point. 

“Um. I stopped to use my phone for directions—”

“There’s no service—”

“Yeah. I got that—”

“Where you trying to go?”

“Carson City.”

“Well, I don’t know the directions there off the top of my head, but let’s go inside and I can look them up on my computer.”

“Oh really? Thank you so much! That would be so kind!”

You jumped out of your car, eager to follow the farmer to his house. The light over the front door lit up the porch in a yellow light. The door creaked open and he let you in first. You waited for him to lead the way to the computer. 

“Have a seat and the printer’s just right over there.”

“Oh. Ok. Thanks.”

He shuffled off to leave you alone in the room. You looked around the house, just now realizing that you had entered a total stranger’s house. You printed out the directions quickly. 

“You want anything to drink?”

“Um…I’m ok…thanks!”

“You sure? I got you a glass of Coke.”

He handed you a glass filled with ice and the dark liquid. You hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day and now it was coming to kick you in the ass. You could have a little bit. It would be fine. Nope. Like an idiot, you drank the whole thing. 

“Wow. You want another one?”

“No. No thanks. I’m good.”

“Stay here. Let me get you another one,” he ordered. 

You stayed put, making a mental note of any potential exits. The drowsiness hit you all at once and you fell dead asleep right on top of the keyboard. The farmer bundled you up and put you in the back seat of his truck. You slowly woke up to the sounds of chanting in a foreign language and cool air blowing across your skin. You looked around to see a group of individuals in red cloaks with their faces hidden by red hoods. You tugged at the restraints that had you tied down to the altar. An upside down cross loomed over you. You tugged harder at the restraints and kicked out. Your right hand snapped free. You grabbed the knife sitting inches from you and cut yourself out of your restraints. 

“Grab her you fools. That’s our virgin sacrifice and she’s getting away. Morons! I! Am! Surrounded! By! Morons!”

You stumbled off the altar and down a dark hallway covered with indecipherable symbols and pictures of individuals with their bodies flayed open. You fell into the well-manicured backyard. What was this? A golf course? You should’ve known. White people are always into some freaky shit. You ran straight for the woods. You had to cover your tracks and get to the nearest house. You needed help. As a black woman, you knew not to call the cops. They’d never help you. But maybe they’d be scared of a Satanic cult? You scaled a fence and fell into a backyard with a brown and white barking dog with a wagging tail. 

“Dodger! Dodge! Stop! Oh shit—”

“Please—wait—um, there’s a situation—over there.”

“The Satanic cult?”

“Ye—yeah? How’d you know?”

“All these celebrities are into some weird shit. If it’s not Scientology, then it’s some weird diet. If it’s not some weird diet, then they’re anti-vaxxers. And if they aren’t part of any of that, then they’re Satanists. What happened to you?”

“Uh…well…they wanted to sacrifice me tonight.”

Who was this guy? You were sure you knew him. From what though? A friend’s older brother? He led you inside to an open plan living room with floor to ceiling windows.

“I know this is your house and you don’t know me—could we—uh—we need to move away from the windows. I don’t want them to find me.”

“Sure. Sure. Not a problem. You want anything to drink?”

“No. No! That’s how I got into this stupid mess in the first place.”

“OK—”

“Long story short, I shouldn’t have been driving at night.”

“Right. Well, let’s go in here. It’s the media room. You want me to call the cops? Or an ambulance?”

“And say what?! A group of Satanists are trying to sacrifice me to Beelzebub?!”

Dodger perked up his head hearing “bub.” He nudged his nose under your hand and you began to pet him. 

“Sorry. Do I know you from school? You look really familiar.”

“Probably not from school.”

“Maybe you just look like someone I know—”

“Like…Chris Evans?”

“Oh! Shit! How the fu—”

A loud crash came from his front door. The two of you leapt up. Dodger ran to the front door, growling and snarling. Chris grabbed your hand and dragged you out to the backyard. You glimpsed towards the front door to see a man with a crossbow dressed in a red cloak. He took aim and the bow clipped your ear. Chris dragged you into the backyard towards the pool house. It took you a split second to realize that as long as you were a virgin, the Satanists would continue to follow you. 

“Chris. Chris. You have to take me virginity. It’s the only way.”

“What?! No. I can’t do that. I don’t—sorry. No. I don’t have sex like that. You’re clearly under duress.”

You fisted your hands in his shirt and curled in on him crying. The tears silently slipped down your cheeks. 

“Please,” you whispered, “I’m not trying to die tonight.”

You pressed your body against him. You squeaked from the tightness of his hug. 

“You need to lose your virginity to someone who loves you. Not like this.”

You reached your hand down and tucked your fingers into the front of his sweatpants. 

“I have tried,” you purred at him “But, no one wants to deflower a 22-year-old virgin. I’ve missed my chance and now I have to give birth to the spawn of Satan? I don’t think so.”

You wiggled the tips of your fingers lower into his pants. They brushed up against the tip of his dick, causing him to grunt and jerk forwards. 

“Oh look. I think you want it too.”

You heard shouting from his house. You quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down to your knees. You pushed down his sweatpants and boxer briefs. His boner stunned you. You expected more work given the current circumstance. You braced yourself against the kitchen island in his pool house. He slowly lined the tip of his dick up to your entrance. 

“I’m sorry—I take more time—it’s not usually like this—”

“Chris. This is an act of—Satan. You’re saving my life right now. Get on with it.”

You reached back and grabbed his dick, leading it to the edge of your entrance. He thrust deep into your pussy. Your shoulders bunched up at the intrusion. 

“Deep breath.”

He caressed the sides of your rib cage. You took a deep breath and relaxed your shoulders. You took an experimental roll of your hips into him. Hearing him groan made you—hungry, aggressive. You rolled your hips back into him again and felt him flex and grunt into you. He smacked your ass. 

“Is that how it’s gonna be? You don’t fight fair.”

“I never fight fair,” you murmured over your shoulder.

You rolled into him again and again. The sweat rolled down your back. Chris reached one hand between your sweat-slicked folds and another to tease your left nipple. 

“Oh fuck. Is this why people go crazy for sex?”

“Mmhmm. Wait ‘til the orgasm hits.”

The sounds of grunts, groans and skin hitting skin filled the pool house. Chris teased your clit with the tip of his middle finger. All you wanted to do was strip all of your clothes off and have skin-to-skin contact with Chris. You pulled off your shirt and bra. 

“Chris—shirt—off.”

He pulled off his tank top and you pulled him flush against you by the back of his neck. Tongue and teeth clashed in a heated kiss. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck and flicked your clit faster. You lost control of your hips. For a second you believed that you had been possessed by the devil and Chris was one of them. Then, the tension snapped in your lower belly. You arched your back into him and your knees gave out.

“Whoa whoa whoa. I got you.”

A wave of calm and goodness washed through you. You felt good. You felt like you were floating in the middle of a calm ocean. Now, you understood why everyone went crazy for sex. You slowly returned to your senses and realized that there were no noises coming from Chris’s house. 

“Did they uh they leave?”

“I think so. Must have seen us—”

“Sorry to leave you hangin’.”

“That’s OK. Glad to help in your time of need.”

You quietly put your clothes back on in the deafening silence. Chris threw on his tank top and pulled up his sweatpants. 

“You need a ride home?”

“I don’t know where I am and home is a 6-hour drive away—Carson City. I think I can find my car if you could just drive me to the gas station. The address will be on my credit card statement online. From there, I could probably trace my footsteps to the farmer who kidnapped me.”

“Yeah. Um. I’d better go with you.”

You pulled up your Chase credit card statement online and he plugged in the gas station address into Google maps. You rode in relative silence for the 30-minute drive. The sun peaked over the horizon lighting everything up in gold. You saw your Toyota was parked by the side of the gas station just as Chris pulled in. 

“Thank you for everything. But I am never coming back to this fucked up place every again!”

You quickly slid into the driver’s seat in your car and drove off without a second look.


End file.
